


Thrill of The Hunted

by Ramsay_Boltons_Muse



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Ramsay is His Own Warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramsay_Boltons_Muse/pseuds/Ramsay_Boltons_Muse
Summary: The story of Roose Bolton’s last living true-born daughter Annette Bolton and her half brother, the infamous Ramsay Bolton. It is a tale of power, control and a forbidden dark devotion.I'm trying out a sort of "choose your own adventure" style (where the adventure never has a happy ending of course :). It's a test phase, so if it doesn't work I'll go back to posting normal chapters. I've edited the existing chapters to work in this new style.





	1. Of A Body’s Desires

“Ramsay.”

Annette did not turn from her bedroom window when she heard him step into her room. Perhaps heard was the wrong expression. She never heard him, not at first. She felt him. An odd injection of twisted air that set a heavy weight about a room’s ceiling. She would feel space tighten around her and the atmosphere press down into her core, trying to flatten her until she was forced to slip through wooden floorboard cracks and drop down down into the hideous waxlit light of the dungeons.

That was when she knew he was there. Annette tried to inhale a steadying breath, but already her oxygen was lead.

“Little sister.”

Ramsay’s voice was honeyed venom and it never ceased to make Annette’s skin crawl. She heard him slide the heavy wooden door closed and fasten the iron bolt across it. It was a beautiful door, masterfully made and quietly daring any to attempt an intrusion into the bedroom of Roose Bolton’s last living legitimate child. Tragically, the door was purposed more as a solemn promise to keep Annette in, and the demons with it.

Annette grimaced. “Half-sister”. Her voice rang the word out expressionless. She knew better than to tempt his rage yet she could not ignore that with each passing day, she had a little less left of her. She clung to her words, the last thing that seemed to have any power.

When she had been a young child, the ladies of the Dreadfort had whispered about the impossibility of such a precious sweet thing born to Roose Bolton. They had clapped their hands when she spoke and sang and said her voice was the loveliest sound in all the North and her words the most beautiful. Years had passed since that time, hard and informative years, and Annette had learned to keep expression from her voice, especially around Ramsay.

He was hand-carved it seemed to exist in the Dreadfort, and his movements complemented every beam and curve and stone of the place. She didn’t hear him approach until she felt him snake his hands around her waist grabbing the sharp bones of her hips through the expensive dress fabric she wore and leaning in to whisper into her ear.

“Oh sister, you wound me so.” He smirked against her cheek. “You know how much it saddens me that we’re not full blood siblings. I know it saddens you too. If we were, I couldn’t do this.” Ramsay swept his hand lightly across Annette’s left breast, pinching her nipple through the dress.

  
Annette whirled around and pushed him, but he didn’t move, her skinny frame no match for his toned and muscled build. Annette’s pupils dilated and her eyes grew wide glancing around the room frantically for a way out. Ramsay grinned and stepped closer. Annette’s hands shot up trying to hit him, but he grabbed her wrists and roughly backed her into the wall, the cold stone making harsh contact and pressing against her back as she writhed about trying to free herself.

“Let go of me!” Annette managed to kick one of his legs and Ramsay’s smile dropped.

He pinned her hands above her head with one hand, twisting her wrists until she cried out in pain, while the other shot out and grabbed her neck squeezing.

“Don’t test me sister dear.” Annette struggled against him trying to free herself as she gasped for air. Ramsay’s grip tightened and her face turned shades paler. His blue eyes locked on hers.

As her vision turned fuzzy, Annette could see only them through the haze as everything else faded, those intense blue eyes.

From the day that her father had introduced her to his bastard son, Annette had been amazed by his eyes. They were the color of a winter’s sky during a northern snowstorm, when the air was bitingly cold and your eyes spilled tears from the pure carnal desire of the wind. Annette’s own eyes were hazel, a watercolor of green and grey and chocolate that Ramsay had been drawn to as much as she had been drawn to his. But for a different reason. For Annette’s eyes were the eyes of a true-born Bolton, the eyes of their father.

Ramsay dropped his hand from her neck as quickly as he had grabbed it causing Annette to collapse to the floor, straining to get air into her starved lungs.

“You will not try to strike me again Netty. The next time you do won’t be as pleasant.”

Netty. It was the nickname Ramsay had given her when they were children. Annette was eight and had wanted to go hunting with their father and didn’t understand why she could not. So she had slipped out of the captivity of her septa and rode her pony out into the woods to play her own game of hunting.

She had been gone for only an hour before she dismounted to inspect a curious-looking rock and fell into a large netted trap that lifted her into the air, swinging from the branch of a huge tree screaming. She had been terrified and thought she would never be found, succumbing to the cold or some other horrible danger.

It had been Ramsay that found her. He was 12 then and already strong for his age. When the castle began its frantic search for the missing child, Ramsay had taken a horse and ridden out into the woods, knowing she would have gone there. He found her pony’s trail and followed it to her. Annette remembered how he laughed when he found her.

“How did you get yourself stuck up there?” His blue eyes filled with mirth.

“Ramsay, get me down!” She had called. “Stop laughing. Please! Just get me down, please!”

Ramsay hadn’t stopped laughing, but he had lowered her down carefully and released her from the netted bondage. Annette had been shaking with fear from her hours tied up and alone, and Ramsay had taken off his cloak and wrapped her up in it before pulling her flush to him. “You’re cold. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” He had lifted her onto his horse and rode her back to the Dreadfort still smiling at how she had managed to be caught like a silly rabbit in that net, and calling her “little Netty”.

Annette remembered thinking him her hero, even though he had laughed. She had fallen asleep on the ride home, curled back into the boy who kept her steady on his horse. When they had arrived at the Dreadfort, she was still sleepy and Ramsay had carried her from the stables into the Great Hall where their father sat stoic, waiting for one of his men to come back with his little daughter.

“You found her.” Roose’s voice had woken Annette and her eyes opened, her small form still cradled by her half-brother.

“Yes father.” Ramsay had set her gently on a chair as her senses began to return to her. Ramsay stood up, meeting his father’s gaze before making to turn and walk back out to the servant’s rooms where he slept with the other orphan and bastard boys.

“Wait.” Roose commanded and Ramsay stopped and turned. Roose stood and walked over to the boy. “Do you know what the most important thing is?” He asked.

“No father.” Ramsay stood taller as Roose approached.

“The most important thing is the survival of the Bolton line.” Ramsay looked away then, shame filling him as the word _bastard_ _bastard_ _bastard_ invaded his mind.

“Look at me.” Ramsay’s eyes snapped back to Roose. “You have done the family a great service by finding Annette. She is a valuable possession for our enemies and you found her before they did. Before my own men did. With Domeric dead, Annette is even more valuable to the right buyer.” Roose sifted through Ramsay’s eyes for a moment. “You will not be sleeping with the servants anymore.” Ramsay looked shocked. “You will have a room here, in the family’s quarters.”

Annette had remembered the look on Ramsay’s face. It was the happiest she had ever seen him.

“Thank you, father.” Roose had nodded and instructed the maester to make the arrangements.

Ramsay never left Annette’s side after that day, not for very long. Wherever she went, he went. The only time she did not feel his shadow was when she slept. She would learn that he used those dark hours for other pursuits. She felt him watching her always and as year after year passed his gaze grew hungrier.

Annette’s thoughts returned to the present as her lungs found breath again. She stood up, regaining her composure. Ramsay had made himself comfortable in one of the rich leather armchairs in the room. He had grabbed a bright green apple from the table and was peeling it with his knife.

These moments of Ramsay testing his power over her were growing more and more frequent.

“Why did you do that Ramsay? You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Father wouldn’t like it.”

Annette tried to hide the fear in her voice. It seemed with each passing day that Ramsay grew more bold. She was not a fool. Ramsay enjoyed playing his games, and none so much so then with his little sister. She worried when the games would turn more violent or worse.

Ramsay huffed, halting his peeling to look her dead in the eyes. “Father won’t care. Not anymore.” He paused, a big smile spreading across his face. Annette saw the smile and his bright eyes and held her breath. If Ramsay was happy about something, it didn’t spell anything good for her. He stood suddenly and strode over to her, knife still in hand.

“You’ve reminded me why I’ve come sweet sister!” Ramsay pointed the knife at her. “You are no longer father’s only true born child. Oh you are going to love this.” Ramsay dropped his knife holding hand to his side and used his other to tenderly tuck a long brunette curl behind Annette’s ear. He leaned over her and kissed the top of her head. Annette shivered.

Ramsay drew away, looking into her eyes. He spoke down to her, having trouble keeping a smile from his face as he told her the news. “I’ve been legitimized.”

Annette felt her stomach drop. She backed away slowly, involuntarily, from him. But he matched her movements. He watched her eyes as they shifted between dread and anger and sorrow and then back to fear, the most beautiful vision on her, he thought. Annette was horrified as one of his signature grins spread across his face, his blue eyes locked on her eyes and seeing her through to her bone.

 _He_ _knows_ _me_ _better_ _than_ _I_ _know_ _myself_ , she thought, and shuddered.

“My dear dear little Netty. Don’t be so glum!” He clapped his hands together, making her jump. “We are going to have a lovely time as brother and sister, truly. And when I inherit, we’ll have even more fun! But don’t you worry sweetling,” Ramsay’s expression turned suddenly deeply dark and Annette felt her skeleton shiver, “We don’t have to wait that long.”

***

Ramsay had not come to her rooms again after telling her about being legitimized for a full week. There was so much changing that Annette couldn’t keep track. Ramsay was constantly meeting with father’s men and preparing for gods know what his new position entailed. Annette was glad for that at least. It was the most time she had had alone without his shadow in years.

  
Ramsay’s absence wasn’t the only change however, and that was where the good news stopped. It seemed the entire castle had internalized Annette’s reduction from Roose Bolton’s only living legitimate child to the status of younger daughter, and younger to the dreadfully feared Ramsay no less. She was suddenly vulnerable to much more without her father’s intense unspoken protection following her everywhere. And as more men took notice, they withheld their impulses less.

Walking through the corridors of the Dreadfort, Annette heard men whisper how beautiful she was. Women would snicker in the kitchens about how long it would be before Roose’s daughter would find herself in an unguarded hallway. And Ramsay’s much-loved bed warmer Myranda was very vocal in her gladness.

Myranda had never dared to speak to Annette before, but had went out of her way to serve her dinner just so that she could speak to her. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been replaced my lady. But don’t fret. You’ll be married off to a lord somewhere far from here before long, now that Lord Bolton doesn’t need to have you here for safekeeping.” Annette had stared at the girl but said nothing, knowing her silence would annoy her more than her words. Myranda loved Ramsay, Annette knew it, and she was intensely jealous of the time Ramsay spent with his little sister. Take him, please, Annette thought. But she stayed silent. She was still Roose Bolton’s daughter and she wouldn’t let Myranda feel more powerful than her. Seeing no response, Myranda had twisted her face angrily and paced out of the room, unsatisfied.

The most shocking change was her father. And it frightened her more than anything.

Annette was having dinner in the Great Hall with her father and Walda. Ramsay was off meeting with different lords under the Warden of the North’s command, cementing alliances and loyalties. The dinner was silent until Roose spoke as Walda, the last to finish eating, finally put her fork down.

“Lady Bolton, would you leave us? I have some matters to discuss with my daughter.”

“Of course Lord Bolton.” Walda stood, curtsied at Roose, and smiled at Annette before waddling off. The room was empty.

“Come here.” Roose beckoned and Annette dutifully stood and glided over to the other end of the table, where her father sat.

Roose stood as she approached.

“My daughter.” Roose circled around Annette as she stood still, her eyes on the floor. Her father had always intimidated her immensely. Ramsay frightened her, but she could read his moods better. Her father though, her emotionless solemn serious father, she did not know what he was thinking. “You are very beautiful.” Roose stopped his circle in front of her again, inspecting her carefully. “It won’t be difficult to find a strategic match for you.”

Annette nodded. She had expected this conversation.

Roose drew closely to her. “You realize that your situation has changed with Ramsay legitimized as my heir.”

It was less a question and more a statement.

  
“I will use you to secure our alliance with the Lannisters in the South. I have it on good authority from Tywin Lannister that his son Jaime will be removed from the Kingsguard soon. When that happens, you will become his wife.”

The South, Annette thought. Far from Ramsay, far from here.

“But until that time you will stay here, in the Dreadfort, for safekeeping.” Annette nodded. “You were always a well-behaved child. Very disciplined.”

That’s what I wanted you to think, Annette thought. She was lost in her thoughts of her childhood for a moment, inwardly smiling at how effective she was at convincing everyone she wanted to that she was the perfect lady, when her father’s hand on her arm brought her quickly back to the moment. His grip was tight. Annette looked at his hand on her arm, confused.

“You’re still a good girl aren’t you.” His fingers dug into her flesh and Annette winced. She had never spent more than a few minutes alone with her father before and she felt shock fill her as his eyes roamed her pretty young body.

“You’re not going to marry Jaime Lannister for several months. Ramsay is going to be kept very busy, and you,” He looked at her hungrily “you are going to stay right here by my side without the eyes of your brother or your intended or my men to ensure your purity. No one is looking at you anymore. I am finally going to get to enjoy you.”

Annette was frozen in place. Her father had never said anything like this. Only ever Ramsay, Ramsay with his games and his promises of ownership. Her father hardly glanced in her direction.

  
“I -- I don’t understand.” Annette stuttered.

Roose released her arm and walked back to his chair, seating himself.

“No? Well perhaps I was wrong to trust in your intelligence. Let me be clear. You are very beautiful and very desirable. You either know this or you’re too foolish to see it. If you’re marrying Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister and all the Lannister men will have no idea what I’ve done to you - they’re thousands of miles away. So I’ll be enjoying what I’ve been wanting for years now. You look much like your mother you know. But far more beautiful.”

The sound of a heavy door opening and boots shuffling invaded the room. A man called out “My lord, news from the Karhold” and Roose’s notice of Annette completely dissipated as he turned toward the incoming men. She backed away slowly before turning and hurrying out of the Great Hall as quickly as her feet could carry her.

Annette started running through the halls, bumping into several servants as she bolted for the familiar wood and iron that promised to protect her. When she got to her room she rushed in panting and sealed the door with the large bolt before collapsing onto the ground against a wall and holding her knees to her chest, rocking and silently spilling tears from her eyes.

 _Nowhere_ _is_ _safe_ _nowhere_ _is_ _safe_ _nowhere_ _is_ _safe_ , she repeated in her head.

That was where Ramsay found her hours later.

***

There was a time in her childhood when Annette believed she loved Ramsay, with all the loyalty that a sister could have for her brother. She didn’t care that he was bastard, it had meant nothing to her. For several years really, after Ramsay had removed her from that net, Annette had loved him dearly.

He had taught her archery and taken her hunting for rabbits. She had loved the wildness of it all, the carnal desire that she felt in stalking something and the elation when she caught it. She always looked to Ramsay for approval. His attention became an impossible need for her, and she wanted to please him with her hunting.

She had grown up with little companionship of children her own age and her only family, her father, scarcely seemed to look at her. Only once, after Domeric had died, did he pay any real attention to her. Even then, it was only to ensure her wellbeing and safety. Once satisfied, however, he retreated from her life once more, though Annette had remembered several nights when a dark shadow was watching her sleep. It was too big to be Ramsay then and she had decided it was only nightmares. Though she remembered faintly servants in the kitchen whispering about the abnormality of a father going into his daughter’s room late at night. After that, Annette recalled new kitchen servants and an end to those strange nightmares.

But within those strange and convoluted childhood memories, Annette could remember the exact moment when she had begun to despise Ramsay. She could not forget the way he ripped her heart out and revelled in the pleasure of her pain, simply because he could do it. She had been unable to understand why the boy who had protected her had suddenly and violently decided to hurt her.

But as much as she hated him, she could not deny the simple truth that he always seemed to find her when she was in trouble and save her. When it wasn’t trouble of his own creation.

 _I_ _need_ _to_ _get_ _out_ _of_ _here_ , Annette thought, still with her head buried in her knees.

“Annette?” Fuck. Adrenaline shot through her veins. She had forgotten that Ramsay had moved to the bigger and more luxurious chambers connected to her own room, chambers that once belonged to her true brother Domeric. She hadn’t locked the door between the two rooms.

Annette raised her reddened teary eyes to look up at Ramsay. He truly was quite a specimen. He stood towering above her, his shirt in hand, chest exposed. His strong jaw-line, dark hair and powerful build made it obvious why all the girls in the Dreadfort fawned over him. Until they realized what he wanted to do to them. Annette could tell he was about to take a bath as her eyes swept over fresh blood splattered over him. It wasn’t his blood.

His eyes were angry. She was certain that he was going to hurt her, the rage emanating off of him was so intense. Ramsay knelt to her crumpled form on the ground. Annette decided right then that she wouldn’t struggle, she knew it would make it worse. She resigned herself to her fate and met Ramsay’s gaze waiting to see what he would do to her.

But he was just looking at her, sweeping his eyes over her body, looking for any signs of harm.

“Netty, what happened?” He was angry she realized not at her, but at the unexplained ominous “they” who made her cry.

Annette let herself sob then. She sobbed and a few final tears fell down her face, but she was out of tears then. She had cried them all.

“It was father.”

Ramsay’s eyes hardened. “What happened?” His stare bore into her. Annette just shook her head, unable to say it. He read it on her face.

Ramsay slammed his palm into the wall above her head.

“He touched you didn’t he!?” Ramsay hissed.

Annette shook again, terrified at his sudden outburst. He realized then that he was scaring her, and tried to calm his voice.

“I’ve known what he wanted for years Netty.” His face hardened looking at Annette’s beautifully vulnerable form collapsed on the floor. “I’m not going to let him have you though. Not you.” He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. “You’re mine.”

It was those words that did it. She felt it falling away then, the hatred and disgust that she piled as high as she could, because she didn’t want him to know, she didn’t want anyone to know - she didn’t want to know it herself. The horrible truth of it all.

And so she let him pick her up, lying still in his arms, and carry her from her bedroom into his, laying her down and covering her up with the soft furs on the large bed.

“I won’t let father touch you, sweet sister.” Annette smiled faintly as his fingers traced her jaw line delicately.

But then he drew his hand away and his voice turned cold as he stared down at her.

  
“I own you.”

Conflicted thoughts and emotions grabbed her from every direction, but she was exhausted. Annette couldn't stop her eyelids from falling, seeing him strip down and climb into the hot bath in the distant corner of the room as she faded into sleep.

**** 

The first sensations that Annette became aware of as she regained consciousness were that she had slept on her side and that her body was numb with cold. She remembered being tucked deeply into the many furs that ordinarily covered the Dreadfort beds, but she could make out in the dim early morning light that the furs were now strewn across the floor. _As is my dress_ Annette noted with horror. She realized then that she was wearing only her thin white slip, her lean body completely naked underneath the barely-opaque fabric. Annette shuddered as she registered the reality that Ramsay must have taken her dress off after she had fallen asleep. The image of him unlacing and peeling it off while she lay as still as a corpse chilled her further, goose bumps breaking out over her smooth skin.

The second sensation that Annette became aware of was a firm bulge pressed up against her backside. _Ramsay_. Instinctively she frose, every pulse in her body trying to silence itself so as not to wake the monster who lay so close. 

Ramsay was a hunter through every nerve and muscle in his body, and he felt that tiny movement when her body woke from its sweet sleep. Although not yet fully awake, Ramsay’s body activated with predatory instinct and his arm curled around her soft belly and pulled her taught against him. 

“Good morning little rabbit.” Ramsay purred into Annette’s neck. _He is so_ **_warm_ ** _._ Annette thought as her body was pulled completely flush against him. _Not warm, but hot, hot like a fever,_ she thought, a terrible white fire fever that pulsated from him and into Annette, thawing her icy body. “You’re so cold.” Ramsay nipped at her ear lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up.” He trailed his hand from where it had pulled her stomach close to him over to her hip kneading the sensitive flesh there. “You’re just too skinny.” She heard his breathing hitch, unaware that his imagination was currently at work tying her to an X-shaped cross and running a cold knife over that skinny body, a little nick here and there and pretty bright red ribbons trailing over her sharp hips and ribcage. 

She did feel his cock harden against her and the hand on her hip squeeze tighter, his fingers digging into her delicate skin. 

“Ramsay.” Annette was surprised at how small her voice sounded. “You’re hurting me.” She tried to squirm out of his grip, feeling his fingers press hard enough to leave bruises, but the feeling of her perfectly curved ass moving against his cock only served to excite him. 

“Oh, Netty.” Ramsay inhaled sharply. “This isn’t hurting you, you stupid girl.” Ramsay bit down on Annette’s exposed neck making her yelp before flipping her over onto her back. Annette put her hands up to push him away but Ramsay roughly grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head smirking before leaning down and hungrily biting and kissing her neck making Annette cry out. 

“Ramsay stop!” 

The slap shocked her. 

He had struck her so quickly that she didn’t see the blow, only felt her face stinging painfully. Ramsay loomed over her. When he spoke, his voice was dark.

“You do not give the orders here you slut.” He spit the word at her and it cut her deeply. He was livid. Annette started shaking. He was not yelling, but his voice was so measured and laden with hatred that she would have preferred a million times over that he scream at her. “I let you sleep in my _bed_ and how did you repay me? By questioning me?” Ramsay’s stare bore into Annette’s eyes and stabbed at her soul ruthlessly. “You can sleep in the dungeons from now on. Or better yet, the kennel. Get out.” 

Annette didn’t move, she couldn’t move. Her body was frozen. “GET OUT!” Ramsay roared, seizing Annette’s waist and hauling her off of the bed before throwing her body full force toward the door. She hit the stone floor and felt a wetness on her cheek where the cold stones had made contact. Her head was ringing from the fall, but somehow she managed to stand. Still shaking, she touched her cheek, drawing her hand away to see it coated in blood. She looked at Ramsay, her eyes widening and her head feeling dizzy as she stared at the bright blood dripping gingerly from her fingers. Ramsay looked at her, standing there in her white slip with her long brown curls and naive hazel eyes and that gorgeous blood pooling and clotting on her beautiful face. But the only expression that passed across his eyes over and over like dark storm clouds was pure anger. He looked like he was going to kill her.

Annette’s bloodied fingers found the door to the hall and pushed it open before stumbling out and starting to run down the halls. She didn't know where to run to, so she just ran, a lovely phantom in a white dress now stained from her bloodied hands clasping its long train as she bolted down the hall. 

 

READER’S CHOICE:

  * Annette decides to run → go to Chapter 2 Version A
  * Annette decides to stay → go to Chapter 2 Version B




	2. Chapter 2, Version A: Of A Conflicted Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the normal warnings, it's Ramsay after all.

Annette sprinted through the halls, unaware that her feet were subconsciously carrying her to the doorway leading to the stables until she stopped herself short of stumbling out onto the snow-covered ground. She knew intuitively in that moment why her body had carried her here - she had to leave. If her father or his men didn’t hurt her, Ramsay certainly would now. His words were still burning through her mind, 

_ Or better yet, the kennels.  _

Fear rocked through her at the thought of being locked beside those  _ beasts _ . She had no choice, she had no one, she had to run. 

There was about thirty feet of open ground between the doorframe where she stood and the door to the stables. She knew that her feet would freeze if she ran across barefoot, and even worse, that without boots and winter clothing she would certainly suffer from some horrid hypothermia. In the span of a half-second, she weighed going back inside to get shoes and a cloak or risking an exposed ride to a nearby village. But the decision was made for her. Adrenaline shot through Annette’s veins as she heard the several boots approaching from behind her and the sound of Ramsay’s voice with them.

“Close the gates.” 

That bastard hunter knew she had decided to run. 

Out over the snow her bare feet fled toward the stable building, her soles on fire from the freeze. Annette reached the stable door and stepped in, feeling a dose of warmth from the animal bodies and dung. She looked down at her feet, now standing on the rough hay coating the floor, and they were turning a bright red. Shivering, Annette shook her head, she couldn’t think about that now. 

Hurriedly, she rushed down the stable looking for the right horse. She had a beautiful white mare that she adored, a gift from Ramsay for her fifteenth nameday, but she knew she could not take her. Nearly all of the nearby villages knew the horse by sight, an impressive animal with an incredibly rare coloring of purest ivory. Annette had named her Maiden for her completely spotless coat, untarnished by any markings. Annette still didn’t know how Ramsay had acquired her. She passed the stall belonging to the mare and she whinnied immediately, sensing Annette’s presence and sending a pang of sadness through her that she could not take the horse. The next stall belonged to Blood, Ramsay’s fiersome black stallion, who snorted loudly and stamped his hooves as Annette rushed by. 

In front of her, she saw one of the stable boys entering from the opposite end with an inconspicuous chestnut mare, currently being brought in to be untacked. Ideally she would have the time to saddle a fresh horse, but with Ramsay and his men approaching that was obviously not a possibility.

Annette ran toward the boy who, now noticing her, looked stricken with shock by her appearance. He still knew her of course, and she didn’t even need to say ‘move aside’ as he instinctively held out the reins to her, seeing her intent. As she mounted and urged the horse toward the open door the stable boy had come from, she felt immense sorrow for the poor boy who would certainly be flayed by Ramsay for letting her get away.

“Ya!” Annette dug her heels into the horse’s sides and spurred her into a gallop, exiting the warmth of the stable and feeling the bitter air hit her as she directed the mare toward the inner keep’s gates. She cursed herself immediately for not demanding the stable boy give her his cloak and shoes. Though she realized a second later that there would not have been time anyway, as she saw two Bolton men running toward the inner keep’s doors in front of her. She kicked the horse as hard as she could and leaned forward urging her faster. She passed the men just before they reached the doors and sprinted forward into the outer keep. 

Annette concentrated her vision now on the massive doors leading out of the Dreadfort, reinforced with metal and framed by the thick stone walls of the castle. Her eyes flicked between the doors, currently open as nearby merchants came and went with their goods, and the guards who stood on the barbican walls, looking out over the towers at the surrounding forests. None of them were looking at her. 

Then she heard it. The sounds of hooves and the shouting. Annette glanced quickly over her shoulder to see five horses charging towards her. Her heart stopped as she locked eyes with Ramsay, leading the others on Blood. His previously angry eyes had disappeared, replaced by a look of pure ecstasy that Annette knew all too well - he was hunting. Her thoughts were confirmed as she heard the baying of his hounds, then coming into view at Blood’s hooves, their mouths foaming. 

The tower guards turned then as they heard the commotion, but Ramsay didn’t signal to them to close the gates.  _ He is positive that he is going to get me,  _ Annette thought. 

She reached the gates and her mare bolted through, away from the open ground and into the surrounding forest, urged on by the sounds of the hounds behind her. 

***

Ramsay was filled with glee. If asked to describe his state of mind currently, it would be a simple answer of pure joy. As he watched the barefoot Annette slip into the trees on horseback, her paper thin bloodied white dress whipping in the wind behind her, he almost lost control of his mind completely. 

Behind him, four of the Bastard’s Boys sped their horses forward, the corners of their mouths fighting not to turn up into smiles. He knew it was because they feared that showing any level of interest in his sister would result in punishment, and they should worry, he would let his hounds tear them to shreds without a thought if they had the audacity to even think of touching her, but he allowed them to be excited this time. 

Annette was impossibly beautiful and the idea of running her down and stripping her naked was just too delicious of a feeling to keep from them. 

***

Annette tried to think logically as she kicked the horse harder, pushing her to a faster gallop. She had an advantage. She knew these woods. She knew Ramsay’s favorite parts of the forest. But she couldn’t think. She simply couldn’t think. The sound of the hounds and the horses behind her made it impossible to concentrate. 

_ What is he going to do to me? _ She started to panic. Was he going to shoot her full of arrows, not enough to kill her, but enough to cripple her? Would he let his hounds take a bite or two of her young flesh? Would he rape her?  _ No, _ she thought,  _ he won’t do that. If he catches me, he is just going to hurt me a little, to teach me a lesson.  _ But she knew that she would be an idiot to actually believe that. 

_ Is he going to kill me? _

An arrow whizzed past her shoulder and landed in a tree beside her, causing her horse to rear. Annette quickly regained control and started to steer the mare into a zig zag, darting through the trees as fast as the horse would go as more arrows made contact with the trees around her. 

But they were gaining on her. Every second the hounds grew louder. They could only be a few hundred feet behind her now. 

Annette was steering the mare toward a stream when an arrow hit the horse’s side, causing her to rear and this time knock Annette off. She hit the ground hard, the snow only an inch deep, her already bleeding face making harsh contact with several sharp stones beneath the snow and causing new blood to spill from the wound on her cheek.

Annette scrambled to stand, her feet on fire as they were forced to start sprinting over the frozen ground. Her rational mind gone as her baseline survival instincts for flight kicked in and she just ran blindly, pumping her legs nearly beyond their capacity. Branches scratched at her face and arms while stones cut her bare feet, now leaving bloodied footprints behind her. Still the arrows whirred by, landing on the ground beside her as the hounds and horses grew louder. They were close enough to hit her now if they wanted. They were playing with her. 

Annette wanted to cry then as inevitability invaded her mind. She couldn’t escape. 

Still, she ran. 

An unexpected moment of clarity hit her as she remembered the tunnels. Years ago, her great great grandfather had built a maze of secret passageways underneath the forests as a labyrinth to hunt people in. There were entrances and exits throughout the forest and if she could enter the maze before Ramsay, perhaps she stood a chance of losing him within it and leaving from a different exit. As she ran, she recognized a familiar large oak and knew she was close to one of the tunnel entrances. Annette forced her legs to move even faster as hope spread through her body once more.

An arrow hit her ankle.

Annette tumbled to the ground, screaming as the arrow sliced through her. Seconds later, Ramsay and the boys reached her crumpled form on the ground, laughing as they dismounted, the hounds baying loudly. Annette tried to stand, but her ankle wouldn’t support her and she collapsed onto the ground. She knew it was useless, but she couldn’t kill the urge to try to get away still. Her attempts to stand again were met with laughter from the boys who were tying the horses up and quieting the hounds.

Ramsay strode over and grabbed the back of Annette’s neck, forcing her onto her knees as she yelped in pain. He released her neck and walked around to face her, a mock disapproving look on his face. 

“Bad girl.” He tsked. “Whatever are we going to do with you?” He asked, crouching down to grab her chin and force her eyes up to him as he grinned smugly.

Annette summoned every last bit of her resolve and spit in his face. 

****

Ramsay didn’t hit her right away. He stood, and turned to the boys.

“Take her.” 

Damon and Skinner grabbed Annette’s arms and picked her up, dragging her toward two skinny white birch trees standing five feet apart. Annette twisted her body and started screaming as Damon held her while Skinner tied rope first to each of the trees and then each of her wrists, forcing her to stand with her arms stretched out, completely unable to escape. The boys stepped back, pausing momentarily. Ramsay was impatient. 

“Do you know what to do? Or are you fucking children. Spread her legs.” 

Damon and Skinner didn’t have to be asked twice, roughly grabbing each of her ankles and securing them to each of the trees. Annette struggled as they finished the binds, screaming as Damon ripped the arrow out of her ankle, blood immediately spilling out and staining the snow beneath her. Tears welled in her eyes, but froze on her face the second they fell. 

Ramsay approached her then as Damon, Skinner, Grunt and Allyn stood behind him, leaning against trees. Skinner took one of his knives out and began polishing it. Ramsay grabbed Annette’s chin again, this time gripping it roughly enough to leave bruises almost to the bone. He turned her head side to side before releasing her chin to grab her neck, squeezing, his eyes growing darker as her face turned paler. He let go and stepped back as Annette coughed, trying desperately to re-fill her lungs with air. But before she could regain her breath, he hit her face hard, twice causing her to gasp before punching her in the ribs. Annette’s body rocked backward as pain coursed through her. Ramsay grabbed her throat again before she had time to recover from the shockwaves, looking deeply into her eyes.

“You have caused me a great deal of trouble today, sister dear.” Annette didn’t even try to respond. Ramsay hit her face again. “The proper response is  _ I’m sorry my lord _ .” Ramsay grabbed her throat, running his thumb across her chin before popping it into her mouth. “I want words from you, slut.” Another slap to her stinging face, and Annette’s eyes tried to cry, but her tear ducts were empty.

Annette swallowed. “I’m sorry, my lord.” She whimpered.

“Good, much better.” Ramsay smiled at her. 

***

It seemed as if Ramsay’s eyes were actually consuming Annette’s body. He had never imagined that she would be this perfect, all of her body visible through her slip’s sheer fabric. All the glances he had been able to steal of her in her dressing gowns over the years indicated that she would be lovely naked, but nothing could have prepared him for how lovely. Her perfect perky breasts and tiny waist leading to the sharp hip bones and those lovely long legs. Ramsay circled her, inspecting, and felt his cock twitch as he saw her rounded ass. Oh, she was delicious.

Ramsay’s knife was out in a matter of seconds, pressing gently against her lower back, causing her to arch her body and her skin to break into goosebumps. Ramsay inhaled sharply as she arched her back further to escape the knife. His arms encircled her waist and neck, pulling her body flush against him and breathing in her sweet floral scent tinged with blood. He whispered in her ear.

“Oh little girl. My darling little Netty.” Ramsay practically cooed in her ear. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment. For you to become completely mine. My little slave.” Ramsay pressed his cock further into her backside and Annette squirmed as much as she could to get away, her grinding against him only serving to make him harder. 

“Are you going to be a good little girl and take your master’s cock?” Ramsay breathed against her neck, warming the skin up from its frozen state, before biting down onto the now sensitive spot. “Or maybe you’re going to take all of my boys’ cocks,  _ hmm _ ?” Ramsay smirked against Annette’s neck as they both looked forward at the four strong young men, all clearly with a sizable bulge in their pants. 

“Maybe I should let them tear that sweet little pussy apart for all the trouble you’ve caused.” Annette winced as Ramsay gently kissed down her neck to her shoulder before biting her again and moving one hand from her waist to one of her thighs, hiking the delicate fabric up. “Would you like that?” 

“Yes, Ramsay.” Annette sobbed out. Ramsay tightened his grip around her neck.

“Yes,  _ my lord _ . And yes what, little rabbit? Use complete sentences.”

“Yes, my lord, I want to let them tear my pussy apart.” 

Ramsay nipped her neck, his fingers pulling the sheer dress further up her thigh. “That’s a very good girl. But I think I’ll be the only one fucking you, I don’t much like sharing.” Ramsay heard Annette release the breath she had been holding. 

“But!” Annette jumped as Ramsay’s cool voice suddenly rang out louder. “They worked so hard in bringing down such a pretty animal, I think we ought to give them a reward don’t you? Let me tell you what you are going to do, pet. You see Damon there?” Ramsay gestured to the tall broad shouldered twenty something with his curly brown locks and green eyes. “Damon likes to beat things with his whip. It helps him think. He’s going to whip you until blood is streaming in rivulets down your pretty back. And Skinner there?” Ramsay purred into Annette’s neck. The tall dark haired Skinner kept his eyes on Annette as he turned one of his knives over and over in his hand. “Skinner is going to make some lovely cuts on this horribly unmarked body of yours. Don’t worry,” Ramsay smiled “it won’t hurt too much, just a little nick here and there.” Ramsay pulled the slip another inch up. “And Grunt and Alyn,” Ramsay motioned to the two handsome, toned brunettes. “They get off beating young girls with their hands little rabbit, so you’re going to let them punch you until you’re nice and bruised and sore.” Ramsay lowered his voice then. “And then you know what you are going to do my pretty little slave?” Ramsay tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then you’re going to get on your knees and suck all of them off until they cum all over your face to remind you what a dirty little whore you are. Isn’t that right my sweet?” Ramsay’s hand was close enough to brush his fingers over Annette’s entrance, earning him another squirm against his cock. “You’re just a dirty little whore who wants her brother’s cock? Say it.”

“I’m just a dirty little whore that wants her brother’s cock.” Annette hummed.

***

She knew it before the words came out of her mouth. She knew he was going to know. Here, exposed, she couldn’t hide it from him. Her voice wasn’t going to lie. It was true.

Ramsay reacted immediately to the unexpected sound of her voice, going completely still. He couldn’t believe it. 

“Say that again.”

Annette writhed against Ramsay’s body, desperate for him to resume the friction. “I want it Ramsay.”

Ramsay laughed out loud. “You want what?” Annette’s face felt hot as Ramsay’s boys stared at her in shock. When she didn’t answer right away, Ramsay grabbed her neck again, squeezing. “Say it. What is it that you want little rabbit? No lying, you know how much I hate liars.” 

Annette’s voice came out as a pathetic little whine. “I want your cock Ramsay.” 


	3. Chapter 2, Version B: Of A Conflicted Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the usual warnings, it is Ramsay after all.

As she ran through the halls, Annette felt total despair envelope her body. She made it down three long corridors, sprinting as quickly as her feet would carry her, before collapsing against the cold stone walls as the hopeless nature of her situation seeped into her bones. Tears started flowing again as her adrenaline slowed and she felt the sharp pain of her injured cheek. Sobbing now, she sank completely to the floor, drawing her legs into her chest while her body rocked silently in an attempt to soothe her battered body and mind.

Annette hummed quietly, a tune that she had ingrained in her recollections from some long ago childhood memory. Slowly, verse over verse of the displaced melody, her vocal cords created soft vibrations deep through to her bone marrow and muscles, working to calm the frightened girl.

As she started the song again, she felt a long dark shadow extend over her body and instinctively stopped humming. _How is a shadow possible in The Dreadfort?_ Was Annette’s only thought as a heaviness set over her. _The people here are already shadows._

Ramsay tsked as he looked down at the crumpled form of his younger sister.

“Oh Netty, you are terribly fortunate that I am a forgiving man.” Ramsay grabbed Annette’s arms and roughly pulled her to her feet. Her head still bowed, Ramsay grabbed her chin and forced her face up to look at him. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you. I do hope you realize the reality of your situation little rabbit. If you have the audacity to actually try to run, I will set my boys and my dogs on you. I’ll let them rape you and tear your flesh apart until you scream for me to kill you, and I will enjoy it. Don’t think for a second that I won’t enjoy it.” As Ramsay’s grip on her chin tightened, she knew he was telling the truth. “Where were you running to, hm? To father?” Ramsay scoffed and Annette cringed. “That’s laughable. You’ve misbehaved, you’re being sent to your room. And you’ll be staying there until I decide otherwise.” Ramsay gripped Annette’s arm and started pulling her back through the corridors. It wasn’t that she was resisting him, he needed to pull her simply because her body had exhausted all of its remaining strength. So Ramsay strode powerfully down the halls, practically dragging the rag doll Annette behind him.

****

Ramsay was surprised at himself. He had fully intended to haul a wailing Annette off to the kennels to lock her in for a night or two. Yet the second he heard her humming, he had changed course.

_She can’t possibly remember,_ he thought. It was a song from their childhood, a tune that Ramsay had hummed often as a young boy while hunting. Sometimes animals, more often people. He remembered the first human hunt that he had brought Annette on. She was thirteen and he had just turned seventeen. The object of the hunt was fifteen year old Lila, a stunning redhead that had provided several joyful evenings of bedwarming, but alas, as always, Ramsay had grown bored of her. Riding Blood, who he had received as a gift from his Father for his seventeenth nameday, and with Annette sat behind him, holding onto him for dear life as he whipped through the trees, he was overjoyed.

“Faster Lila, if I catch you, I’ll kill you!” Ramsay had been practically laughing. He had shot her down of course, an arrow cleanly through her shoulder, and dismounted, dragging Annette behind him.

He knelt down to Annette, already so much taller than the skinny girl. “Now, watch what I’m going to do to her Netty. And if you look away, I’ll hurt her worse.” He gave her small arms a squeeze, and stood up, waltzing over to the screaming Lila.

“Not fast enough, Lila.” He feigned a frown. “I would commend you on your efforts, but it really was quite pathetic.” Lila tried to stand, but Ramsay hit her full force across her face and she fell to the ground. She was wearing a lovely blue dress, Ramsay remembered that clearly, because the spot on her shoulder where the arrow had hit was bleeding profusely and turning the blue fabric a gorgeous deeply bruised purple.

Ramsay loomed over Lila as the girl kicked and attempted to hit him. As Ramsay wielded a sharp knife and cut through the dress fabric to reveal her pretty young body, he started to hum that tune. He snapped his eyes to Annette suspecting that she would be averting her eyes, but the dutiful girl was watching him intently, her face expressionless. He held Lila down then as he raped her, his murderous rage intensifying as he slashed her body until the color of her skin was far more red than her pretty hair. Ramsay killed her after and left her body on the ground. He had not yet begun training hounds, luckily for Annette, who would have had to watch his hounds tear the body apart if he had.

Covered in Lila’s blood, Ramsay lifted Annette back onto Blood, and rode homeward, humming that same tune the whole way home and smiling. Annette had been silent and Ramsay was entirely sure it was shock, glad that he had caused such a severe reaction in the girl. She hadn’t spoken for several days after that.

The fact that she had been humming that to comfort herself was bizarre, but he decided to write it off as a lack of memory as well as proof of his complete dominance over even her subconscious mind.

****

Ramsay yanked Annette down one more hallway before arriving in front of her bedroom door. He swung it open and tossed her into the room, Annette falling to the floor from the force of it. She heard the door slam behind her and assumed Ramsay had left her there.

He hadn’t.

“We are going to have a little chat, you and I.” Annette pulled herself up off of the ground and slowly stood up, immediately backing away from Ramsay’s looming figure. She hadn’t really looked at him in bright light until now, with the morning sunlight spilling in rivets through the eastern windows of her bedroom. He was engulfed in light, his ordinarily ivory skin turned a godly golden. Annette couldn’t fully read his expression, but his face was composed of complete and utter control, his icy blue eyes boring down on her. He was shirtless still, having come after her straight from his bedroom, and his toned and muscled body seemed to emit unearthly waves of power, highlighted by the sun. Strange, Annette shivered, he looks like a sun god. But as Ramsay stepped closer to Annette and out of the direct sunlight, he re-emerged into the shadows as the dark lord that she knew too well.

“Ramsay, I’m sorry.” Annette’s voice came out as a whisper. Ramsay stood tall over her shaking figure as she tried to steady her body.

“And what exactly are you sorry for, Annette?” His eyes were ice, daring her to misstep.

“You were kind to me. I was ungrateful.” Her voice came out more sure of itself this time.

Ramsay walked behind Annette and drew her hair back behind her shoulders. Pressing his fingers into her back he leaned into her ear, “Fix your posture.” Annette straightened her back, as Ramsay walked back around her, slipping his thumb under her chin and tilting her face up. “That’s better.” He took a small step backward and Annette felt her body slightly relax. _Perhaps all he wanted was a proper apology._ Ramsay smiled at her.

Then he hit her full force in her stomach. Annette immediately doubled over, crumpling to the ground as her air was completely knocked out of her. Tears automatically welling up in her eyes, she dared to look up at him only to be met with another painful blow across her face. Annette cried out then, and tried to curl her body into a ball, but Ramsay was upon her in seconds, forcing her onto her back with her wrists held above her head with one hand while his other held a knife to her throat. Annette tried to struggle against him, but it was pointless, he was far too strong.

Ramsay laughed. “You thought that was how you would apologize? You stupid girl.” Annette winced at the insult, and Ramsay laughed again. “Oh but you are stupid, Annette. Terribly dull witted I must say to test me like this.” Ramsay ran the knife down her throat to the collar of her nightdress, carefully nicking the fabric and making a small cut, exposing another inch of her chest. Annette thrashed her body again then, but Ramsay had her thoroughly pinned down, and she only served to cause a tiny gash on her chest from the sharp blade pressed so closely to her, a delicate red thread of blood gracefully spilling from the cut down her chest and under the rest of the dress fabric where Ramsay couldn’t see it. Annette saw that his eyes were fixated on the small stream, and she knew what he wanted then, knew too well what the sight of blood did to him.

“Ramsay, don’t, please.” Annette begged, but Ramsay wasn’t listening of course. He cut through more of her dress to reveal where the blood had settled neatly, further down her chest - he only needed to peel the white fabric off to either side to reveal her breasts. His shuddered at the thought. But he snapped his eyes back to Annette’s.

“See, there it is again, darling. You seem to have a problem understanding your current situation. Let me elaborate, Netty. You don’t get to decide what I do to you or when I stop doing it. You belong to me. Unless you would rather belong to Father, which I would have no problem arranging. Though you can be certain there will be no rescuing of you then. I don’t like spoiled things.” Ramsay bent closer to her then, until his lips were inches from hers. Annette was frozen in place. “So tell me, Netty, who do you belong to? Because I’m finding these “stops” and “nos” quite boring, sister dear. So either you can admit who really owns you and we can get on with your punishment for that bit of disrespect this morning, or I can go drop you off at Father’s study and tell my boys to stop keeping an eye on you.”

Annette was shocked at where her mind went then. She should have been disgusted with him, angry, terrified, any logical emotional combination of hatred and fear, but instead her eyes softened.

“You’ve been keeping an eye on me?”

Ramsay sighed in annoyance. “You pretty little idiot. Of course I am.”

Annette’s whole body softened under him then. Her rational mind tried to fight the reaction, but pinned down here, she couldn’t deny it - she wanted him to protect her. In a sick way, he made her feel safer than anyone else could. Ramsay’s cold eyes sifted through hers.

****

He couldn’t understand her reaction. He was trying to read her eyes for any game she might be playing. She wasn’t actually an idiot, he knew that. That was part of what made toying with her so fun. But it also meant that she might be seeking an upper hand, which he obviously wasn’t going to let her have.

But he couldn’t detect anything false about her reaction to discovering he had been watching her. Thank the gods he had too. He couldn’t recall the number of times Roose or his men had attempted to corner her in a dimly lit corner of The Dreadfort. The girl probably didn’t have an idea how many advances he and the boys had protected her from over the years.

“Yes, Ramsay.” Her sweet voice took him out of his thoughts and back to the present. “I belong to you.”

****

“Good!” Ramsay’s body jolted into action, standing up and pulling her up with him. “Then we can get to your punishment, darling sister.”


End file.
